


Five Times She Ogled His Ass

by MonikaFileFan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirty Thoughts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship/Love, One Shot Collection, RST, Scully Loves Mulders Butt, Scully has rules, Sensual touch, Series Ties Together, Sexual Humor, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/pseuds/MonikaFileFan
Summary: Scully loves Mulder and his body, but her very favorite piece of his anatomy is... yes, you've guessed it! Scully loves Mulder's ass. These CAN be read as one shots but they do tie together in a certain way and you WON'T be disappointed by reading them all.xHe heard you! Of course he did. You slam your mouth shut and intend to flick your eyes elsewhere. But Holy God! His dick is now right where his ass was and you don’t flick a thing.x





	1. One time in the basement...

**Author's Note:**

> This is something a little different for me to write and I HOPE it's something you like to read and want to read more of. Keep in mind each one will be slightly different style wise. So please let me know what you think and happy reading!

You’re Special Agent Dana Scully, It’s a Tuesday, and you’re sitting at the desk you share with your partner of four years. Your FBI partner. Your friend, best friend, actually. And what are you doing? Ah yes, your staring at him standing across the room where he’s bent over the lab station counter. Oh, and you’re ogling his ass. That’s right, you’re ogling your best friend and partners ass just feet away from where his potential gaze could catch your own, which happens to be locked onto his fine looking specimen of an ass. 

This is not the first occurance and you know no matter how many times you scold yourself about doing it, you’ll do it again at the next opportunity. No thought and no regret about it.

Your heart is pounding, and suddenly the inside of your mouth is the Sahara desert. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk and lick your lips nice and slow. Jesus, why do you do this to yourself? Torturing your body with those traitorous eyes of yours over and over. Your mouth is hanging open now and—oh shit—he dropped his pen, and as he bends further down at the waist, your jaw betrays you next by falling open and letting the breath of hot air audibly fly out. 

He heard you! Of course he did. You slam your mouth shut and intend to flick your eyes elsewhere. But Holy God! His dick is now right where his ass was and you don’t flick a thing. 

He sees you eyeing him, staring at the center of his zipper and you just know your eyes are as big as the flying saucer on the poster beside your head. You keep your jaw clenched almost as tightly as your thighs at the moment, because if that body part decides to betray you next, you just might come undone right there in your shared office chair. 

You feel a thin layer of sweat seep through the skin on your brow and more instantly gathers at the curvature of your lower back where his hand would inevitably glide easily across your damp skin. You quickly push that thought away as soon as it smacks into your head. 

You cannot pull one more trigger on your body’s orgasmic gun before you blow. 

You lose track of where you are and what the fuck you're actually supposed to be doing instead of panting like a dog while trying to tear your saucer eyes away from Mulder’s dick. His big dick that is—oh fuck—currently growing right in your line of sight. 

Now your in serious trouble, you realize. Your so close now. So so close it’s completely embarrassing. 

You resign to the fact that your not going to win the war of looking away from the glorious show in front of you, so you win the battle and snap your eyes shut instead. You have to bite your tongue to block it’s fight behind your teeth for a haste escape. The urge to lick your chops at the fresh piece of meat in front of you is utterly unbearable. Why? Because your fucking salivating in your enclosed mouth as the threat to choke on your secretions of hunger for  _ him _ escalates. 

Your throat betrays you next as a soft groan vibrates along it, echoing in the silent basement air. He hears that! You know he does because you can feel his intense stare burning a hole through your flushed pink face. 

Swallowing, biting your lip, and holding your breath does absolutely nothing for your current state of  _ come-fuck-me _ arousal. 

And then—oh my God—then you hear him. 

He’s right there next to you, breathing heavily, radiating body heat. You can just picture him through your clamped shut eyelids. And oh, it makes your clit ache. 

Shit, what now? You begin to panic because there is the standing  _ don’t fuck your partner  _ rule that you made that very first moment you laid your baby blues onto his hazel greens. And your way too damn close to shattering it right here, right now! 

Afraid to move, and terrified to open your eyes to see what expression he's wearing, you struggle to get your shit together as best as you can before the last and final trigger to your waning self-control is pulled—

Oh Shit! He’s touching you! Mulder is touching your skin! His hot gentle hand is touching your wrist, sending a tidal wave of wetness right into your panties. That final orgasmic trigger is blowing. Right. Fucking. Now. 

You stand. You have no earthly idea how you do it but you just fly right out of the shared seat that you’ve now marked with your essence, and somehow—by the grace of all that is Holy—you avoid his eyes and only open your heavy heavy lids to make sure your feet don’t betray you too. You dash around the desk as quickly as your feverish and intoxicated body will allow, brushing along his arm in the process. 

He moans. Mulder moans long and deep in his throat and your knees buckle. Jesus, is that how yours sounded just a minute ago? 

Your feet begin to falter, so you walk faster. Flee, flee now, your mind is screaming as your body starts to betray you again. Finally, you reach the doorway, finally freedom from the sexually charged basement is just a foot away.

“Scully,” he groans out, breathless. 

And you can’t look at your partner, your best friend in the eye. You just cannot do it without breaking your rule. So you force your traitorous body to walk out the door; but your weakening. You throw out a pathetic, “see you tomorrow, Mulder,” in a notch barely above a whisper. 

He hears you, and you flee. 

\----------

 


	2. One time in the hospital...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder’s in the hospital and Dr. Scully is keeping her watchful eye on ALL of him.

You’re Dana Scully, and you have many different shoes that you can step into on any given day. Currently, you’re standing in your three inch come-fuck-me Dr. Scully shoes, leaning against Mulder’s hospital bed while white knuckling the bed rails in an attempt to get the best angle of his half exposed taut bare naked ass. His luscious, muscular, smooth, rounded, perky—

You could go on all damn day describing your worship of the ass of Fox Mulder. But you don’t have the time nor the will-power to hold back the writhe of your hips grinding along the railing, or the low throaty groans escaping your mouth while he shaves in the bathroom.

Oh Christ! You feel your nipples grow harder than steel and you look down to see them popping out of your tight white blouse like pink erasers heads. You try to moan quietly as you swipe each bud with your nails just for some goddamn relief, hissing when the after-shock of the sudden sensitivity zings through your nerve endings.  

You feel hot all of a sudden, sweaty in fact, but you reaffirm your death grip to in order hold on for dear life. You don’t dare to move a muscle right now.

God, he’s leaning over the sink now, and through the wide open door his ass cheeks clench and relax again and again as he works with his face pressed into the mirror. You just can’t help but wonder if that’s what his ass would look like from the angled mirror in your bedroom as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you with your heels digging into each perfect gluteus.

Oh yes, he’s fucking you in your mind now and—Jesus, Mary and Joseph—the shaving cream is slipping off of the sink with each jostle of his hips bumping the edge. He doesn’t see it. You should yell out to let him know. You should be a good friend and warn him of a potential messy explosion of cream. And yes, you mean that as a double entendre. 

You should say something, but you don’t. Oh hell no, you don’t say a goddamn thing. Why? Because you’ll miss the show. You’ll end up missing that lucious ass of his squatting down and giving you an amazingly arousing view of his heavy manhood that you want so fucking bad that you’ve actually cried about not getting it. Yes, you’ve cry in your empty bed at night with your fingers flying across your clit only fantasizing about it being  _ his _ fingers making you see stars and  _ his— _

Dammit, Dana, pay attention! 

Yes, here it comes. Oh fuck, your about to lose yourself just thinking about it. Your thighs clench together ungodly tight as your pussy throbs with the need to be filled by the thick mass of his… you can’t even think it. If you say the word to yourself, you’ll fall apart right here and end up a gelatinous puddle on the floor. Right now.

You can just picture it. He would walk out and watch as your body slumps over the bed rail with your flushed face frozen in a silent scream, legs convulsing and can no longer support your weight while you tear your fingers through the bed sheet.   

And you’ve seen  _ it _ . Fuck, you’ve seen it! A few times actually. The past five years have only offered you a few fleeting glimpses of that well-endowed erection and it was sure as hell not nearly enough! 

Your arms are trembling from all the leaning and gripping but you don’t give a shit about that because, yes, you’re about to come undone with your eyes glued to his delicious ass. You’re so fucking close now! 

You bite your lip and taste iron; but you don’t give a shit. One hand is ridiculously sweaty and slides down the rail inch by inch, teasing your turgid nipples along the cool plastic; but you don’t give a shit. You’re audibly panting through your nostrils as you watch him swing his barely there gown loosely around to the front of his hips; and you don’t give a shit. He has to be doing that to tease you, you know deep down that he can feel you staring, and you don’t give a shit. You’re not even looking at anything on his body that’s located above his hips, and you even let the copious amount of hot saliva pool just behind your chewed to bits bottom lip. And no, you still don’t give a shit. 

You’re just about to say fuck it, because you’re so damn tired of ignoring your desire for him that you even close your eyes and throw your head back, lulling it side to side and ready to just give in to the euphora. Your mouth falls open and you even let your throat bring forth his name to the tip of your tongue—

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice breaks through your thick haze of arousal. You snap your head upright like a rubber band, because it’s loose, your whole body is so loose. And it feels fan-fucking-tastic. 

The nurse walks into the room and ruins you. 

Mulder then walks out of the bathroom with his gown now neatly wrapped around his taut body and of course his luscious ass. He smiles that sexy Mulder-smolder at you, and you realize you  _ still _ haven’t dared to move your now loose and weak body.

Your eyes flick back over to the nurse and you fucking hate her! And you wouldn’t want to date her. You stifle an abrupt laugh rising out of your lungs at the useless memory of those teen girls’ asinine lingo. As quick as it came, you ignore it. 

You know that as soon as you flee from this potentially embarrassing situation, you’ll race to the rental car and finish yourself off before you’re too-sexy-for-his-own-good partner can utter ‘Scully’. 

You’re frustrated and still fucking horny, so you peel your fingers off of the railing and finally let out the loud deep throaty groan that you’ve been fighting the entire time you’ve been ogling your partner's ass. 

He hears you, so you flee. 

\----------

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! It was really way too fun to write. Please let me know what ya thought though and I’ll use that feedback for the next chapters!


	3. One time on an airplane...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully has a flight experience she will never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a much longer chapter than my first two but I mentioned that each one will be slightly different. This chapter is more detailed so I hope you like it.

There it is. That rounded tight piece of perfected ass displayed right next to your shoulder. If he told you his ass was used as a template and chiseled into a statue of stone that women came to worship on Sunday, you’d believe him. Because that’s practically what you do yourself. Worship, adore, honor, drool—

Doesn’t matter, you do it all. 

Mulder lifts the last piece of luggage into the overhead compartment across the aisle from your assigned seats. You hear him shove the bag in further, yet you don’t see him do it. No, you aren’t watching what his hands are doing at the moment; just his chiseled ass cheeks as the muscles ripple underneath his tailored Armani. 

You hear him huff in frustration and mumble the word, “dammit,” and then, “tiny fucking spaces…” 

You’re not frustrated at all. In fact, you’re extremely relaxed as you lay back and rest your head along the seat. You see, that ensures you use your trained investigators eye appropriately by examining the evidence from every angle possible. You feel a languid grin take over your face while your eyelids droop and you stare and stare and… you see him turn and hear the compartment snap shut; and you make your rebellious eyes do the same. 

You fake being asleep which is completely STUPID because you’ve just sat down less than five minutes ago. You panic but don’t show it. Hell, you’ve gotten so good at not showing the deeper side of Dana since med school, that you can officially add  _ professional fucking faker _ to the list of labels that follow your name. 

And you carry a mass amount of guilt for it. 

You can feel the intense stare he’s giving you while you impatiently wait for him to say something. But no, oh God, he’s going to  _ do _ something instead! You hear his shoes squeak against the metal sides of the aisle, you feel him lean in so close that if you open your eyes, you’ll be nose to nose. He audibly gulps, and you hear his breath puff out in a long drawn out exhale. And you smell him—oh Jesus you smell  _ him— _ his own unique bouquet that flips your belly around like a fish out of water.  __

Instantaneously, your nipples harden, digging into your useless too thin bra, as his breath caresses your ear. The anticipation is absolute torture to your body and your mind while the thoughts of what you wish could happen next dance around your brain. 

You, with your legs spread wide while he pounds into your core over and over. Him, meeting you thrust for thrust as you straddle his hips, riding him sweet and slow. You, with your hands pinned above your head while he teases your entire body until you fall to pieces in his arms—

Oh Christ! His fingers run through a stray lock of hair and he tucks it tenderly behind your ear, his mouth sending streams of warm air against it. You bite your lip to keep it from yanking you over to meet his face and plant itself on his pouty mouth. But you’re weak; so weak in fact you that can’t help but open your eyes and see his hand sensually moving down your face while his fingers still glide along your hair. 

You try not to look at him while he does it—his Mulder scent, his proximity—but his eyes are invading your whole fucking bubble. You can’t avoid them. They’re green and gold and swirling; they’re a goddamn vortex sucking you in.

It’s so intense! You flutter your lashes that feel like lead, while your vocal cords act before your brain does and you say his name right into his cheek. “Mulder.” No, you moan it as he leans back into you, branding your ear with his mouth. You take the opportunity to look down at his cock. Yes, you bravely look down at your partner's hard thickening cock, and just before he’s able to witness you’re appreciative assessment, the flight attendant snatches you from your sexually charged universe. 

“Excuse me, Sir, but you’ll have to take your seat now.” The sickeningly sweet way she says it only pisses you off. How could anyone be so joyous as they interrupt one of the hottest fucking moments that you’ve had in years? 

Son-of-a-bitch!

Yet, Mulder surprises you. He doesn’t jerk his mouth away from the lobe of your ear as if he burned his lips on scalding hot coffee. He doesn’t even move. He only blows out a steady cascade of air along the shell of your ear. You immediately begin to pant like a dog in the hot hot sun, deprived of water for days on end. Your mouth is dry as a bone, and you realize the wetness that once resided there has shot straight into your lace panties, flooding you. 

You gasp, loudly, too goddamn loud for him not to react. You feel him blink rapidly against the side of your face, his lashes titillate and make you shudder from tits to toes. 

Oh. My. God. 

He can’t get any closer to you—while clothed anyway—and stays frozen like a statue while kneeling in the aisle of a packed airplane with his skin attached to yours. Just when you cannot take another heated second he suddenly, as if shocked by electricity, jolts to his feet and nearly takes out the attendant with his head. She stumbles backward, and you see him react with his arms flailing out completely uncoordinated. 

You watch paralyzed and wide-eyed while gripping the armrests as he trips over his own feet, ramming his open palm into the woman’s breast and knocking her into the lap of an elderly man.  

Gasps, shouts, and a rush of passengers move forward to assist the ruffled attendant who was just felt up by the careless FBI Agent who’s also sporting an impressive rock solid erection that tents his pants. 

You’re too stunned to move so you can only watch as a red-faced Mulder awkwardly apologizes to her and the man, whom you pray won’t have a stroke from a pretty young woman’s ass being plopped onto his crotch, while Mulder jams the heel of his hand against his now inappropriate yet mouth-watering hard-on. 

Jesus, your ogling has turned into a clusterfuck and you don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or ignore the fact that you were both two seconds from tongue wrestling while eye fucking each other in front of 60 strangers. 

No, no Dana! Do NOT think about fucking of any kind!

Another flight attendant swoops in at that very second and takes charge which forces Mulder to make a decision. You’re not able to move with the crowd of people now standing next to your seat so you’re stuck looking at Mulder’s panic face that you’ve recently become quite familiar with since Texas. You see the hesitant look in his eye and immediately understand the problem. He’s afraid to slide past you to get to his seat while jutting his raging erection into your face. 

So It’s your turn to gulp, and you toss up a quick  _ please God,  _ just in case He chooses now to answer one of your prayers. But as soon as you get your hopes up, you realize that he has turned around with his back to you. He bent himself at the waist to tuck his head under the fasten seat belt sign, and starts to squeeze himself along your front, simultaneously disappointing you and exciting you at once. Because yes, his perfect perfect ass and all its glory is now just inches from your face. He’s rubbing his legs along your own as you suck your entire bottom lip into your mouth and—oh you’re in trouble now—you have to actually slap your hand over it to contain the guttural moan you feel vibrating up your throat. 

Your hand that’s not currently covering your mouth twitches and by its own volition, seems to rise in mid air, intent on grabbing just one of his fantastic cheeks.

God must be listening, because you’re able reassemble a monicome of self-control to stop your wandering hand from reaching for its laurels. 

The last part of his leg leaves yours just in time for you to clasp your hands together and shove them in your lap. Christ, you hope he can’t smell your arousal when he sits down the same way that you can smell his heady scent wafting up your nose.

Mulder sits down right next to you and immediately leans forward, shedding his jacket and draping it along his crotch. You try not to stare out of the corner of your eye, yet those damn swirling whirling eyes of his draws yours to his like a magnet. You stare  _ into _ one another. And stare and stare until your brain screams at you to breathe. Apparently, eye fucking Mulder shuts down your body’s autonomic response. 

Point taken. There will be no more of that, you lie to yourself. 

You tear your eyes away and suck in a breath as the flight announcements take place. You know Mulder is brewing up a way to discuss this heated moment in which, you know, will inevitably lead to a discussion of what you have pegged as “the hallway incident”. And in no way shape or form, are you ready for that mind-fuck of a conversation. 

Disecting a body is what you should be focusing on, not the dissection of your feelings you hide deep in your soul. Because you know you’re weakening, mind and body. 

You now have the rest of the flight to fantasize and down-right torture yourself with thoughts of that perfect ass, and  _ now _ that perfect hard-on he’s probably still sporting, all the while you tune in and out to Mulder’s ramblings about the body you have to, in his words, “slice and dice.”  

Over the next 29 minutes of shared sexual tension at 36,000 feet, Mulder wiggles, fidgets, and flips absently through a file repeatedly after filling the silence with case information that you already know. And you? You angle your body away from his and repeat the mantra of autopsy lingo in your head just to keep your attraction for him from banging against your Cerebellum. 

Just as you start to contemplate that physically banging your head against the seat in front of you would work better, the seat belt sign turns off and you’re out of your seat in a flash, making a beeline to the tiny ass bathroom.   

You’re summoned by the announcement of arrival seventeen short minutes later, so you settle back into your seat after your alone time where you splashed cold water on your face and aired out your arousal filled panties. 

Just as you think you’ve reigned yourself in, you feel a warm hand grip your knee that sends tingles up your thigh. You gasp and vaguely register Mulder asking you if you’re okay. You nod and his hand disappears. Thank God! 

You’re teetering on the precipice of erotic anarchy on a fucking airplane with nowhere for you to escape.  

Twelve minutes. Twelve long agonizing minutes later you land, and Mulder stands next to your still seated form. You haven’t taken the chance to make eye contact again after earlier instances proved to be physically debilitating for you. So you just wait for him to slide past you once again to grab the luggage.    
  
Oh shit! You forgot. How could you’ve forgotten he was going to need to shove your weakness into your face again? You should stand instead. You really should, but you don’t. You don’t move a damn muscle. And you suddenly realize, that no amount of avoidance will curb your desire for him or his luscious luscious ass. 

There he is right in front of you now slowly rubbing the back of his legs along your knees and your eyes are glued to the glorious image before you. The rebelliousness of your eyes from the beginning of of flight has moved on to overtake control of your hand this time. Somehow, you forget you’re only supposed to look. Not touch. Never touch. Touching is too dangerous, too much, too stimulating, too—

Amazing! You yell silently as you run your hand over one taunt cheek, providing gentle pressure. You ensure—for the second time today—that you use your trained investigators eye appropriately by examining the evidence from every angle possible. It only seems fair you assess him with touch now as well as sight. 

You feel Mulder stiffen and his glute muscle tightens. Because yes, your hand his still palming it. He spins his head around and down to gawk at the act at hand, literally. Your eyes don’t flick, dance or drift away this time. You keep them locked onto his like a vice. You can’t hold back a smirk at the sight of him attempting to swallow through what you can only assume is now a moistureless mouth. 

Finally, he glances at you through his lashes and clears his throat to speak. You swipe your hand one, two, three times across his ass cheek before he can utter a thing. And by the grace of all that his Holy, you’re able to school your face enough to seem as serious as any human possibly can who’s been creaming her panties for an entire flight. 

“You had some of my hair stuck to your pants,” you blurt out, hopefully in an unaroused tone since you can’t hear a goddamn thing with the sudden blood whooshing in your ears. 

It’s getting too much, this voyeuristic obsession of ogling your best friends ass. Except... he’s not just your best friend anymore, he’s the only man that you want in your life, and you’re too damn chicken shit to admit it beyond your array of dirty dirty forbidden thoughts. 

And that turns you on, unfortunately. 

You wait for him to say something. Anything at all to break the tension, but no innuendo comes out of his slack-jawed mouth. Only the truth. 

“Well at least one of us got to touch today,” he murmurs with a pinkening face, eyes still drilling into yours. 

“You’re forgetting about  _ your _ groping of flight attendants, Mulder,” you quip with a smile in order to deflect the attention off of your own indiscretion. 

Oh no! You’re being pulled, pulled into his vortex of green and gold AGAIN, and you fear you might never come back this time. “Ouch!” A bag belonging to the teenager behind you whacks you in the head, yanking you out of Mulder’s swirling gaze. 

You don’t even give a shit about how bad your head is now throbbing. You’re thankful for the blow to the head that knocked your sense back in. But if you could do what you really wanted, you’d laugh hysterically at how insanely close you are to sprinting right out of the best friend zone you and Mulder are encompassed in, and happily violate your number one rule. 

Mulder’s mood from the beginning of the flight has changed drastically right along with your own. He’s no longer frustrated; you are. Both emotionally and physically, and you just can’t take it anymore. 

The airplane exit doors open as soon as Mulder steps up to the overhead compartment. You see your opportunity to run from the area that’s been mercilessly taunting you with your every desire. 

You stand, and you move with purpose. 

“I’ll meet you by the gate,” you toss back over your shoulder as you hightail it down the aisle, fleeing yet again. 

\----------

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is still an experiment for me, please leave me some feedback about this chapter in particular. Letting me know if you liked the detailed version better or the shorter, smuttier versions would be helpful.


	4. One time on a Manhunt...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully watches Mulder from afar but gets a shocker when things shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a tense one y’all.

You’re standing by the counter watching Mulder shoo the last employee of the diner out the back exit through the kitchen while you both wait for the rest of the search team to arrive. Neither of you could believe that asshole Kersh actually put you on a manhunt taskforce for a murderer on the run, a legitimate case. You should’ve known it was too good to be true. Here you are, stuck in nowhere New Mexico while caught in the middle of a monsoon, covered in mud from your knees down, and soaked to the bone.  

Mandatory FBI windbreakers were completely useless of course so the both of you shed those as soon as you could in a futile attempt to drip dry. 

As you take one final look around and see the empty parking lot covered in darkness through the lone window, you can’t help but wonder if a stack of reports and background checks involving mounds of shit—that are surely piled high on your desk at the moment—would be a better alternative than having your waterlogged feet throb and saturated clothes plastered to your body for hours. Yeah, that paperwork is sounding mighty good right now. 

But of course, this is your life. Your life you’ve chosen to live. With Mulder. Because of Mulder. You and Mulder together. _ Mulder _ . 

You shift on your feet and wince as the sloshing sound breaks your brooding. Flicking your eyes back over to your partner, you see it. Him. His ass. Mulder’s amazing ass being hugged so goddamn tight by his dripping wet tailored-to-a-tee Armani that you see every line, every indentation of his toned slick cheeks set just below his dimpled muscular latissimus. 

Your tongue pokes out at the corner of your mouth and you slide it nice and slow along both lips, teasing yourself with the vivid image of his bare naked goodness that lay hidden under that G-man attire. If you could just touch—

Oh no! No, don’t ogle Mulder’s ass! Do NOT do this to yourself here, now, while you’re both alone, covered in rain slicked skin and surrounded by unresolved sexual tension.  _ That  _ of which has been intensely palpable as of late. Even with the other nature of tension lingering around your partnership, the sexual attraction and manifestation of building affection for one another overpowers the  _ other _ .  

You see his ass turn away from your line of vision and are greeted with the pronounced view of Mulder’s cock instead. You snap your eyes shut a second too late. You’ve just seen too much, because now the image of Mulder pumping mercilessly into your splayed open body while you lay bare assed across one of the diner’s rickety table tops is burned into your retinas.  

Shit! Your wet in a brand new way, and you realize you’re in serious trouble since you know damn well his proximity will only make your situation worse.

He’s coming toward you now and you feel your pulse quicken. Mulder slowly walks over to stand just a few feet from the dripping puddle of water you’ve accumulated. You meet his eyes with the intention to discuss what will come next when backup shows, but the words die well before they’re even formed as you see the look of pure lust form on his face. 

You’re breath is coming out in spurts suddenly, and you see his chest rise and fall in a similar way out of your peripheral vision. He’s done it again! Mulder has locked your eyes onto his and holds them there like a fucking vice. 

Goddamnit! How does he do this to you?

Rarely does your body betray you in life. You’ve survived more than any sane person would ever believe, yet when it comes to this irresistible man standing right in front of you instigating eye-fuckery, you cannot easily fight back for control. 

“Scully…” His deep voice startles yet thrills you at the same time. Either way, you’ve torn your eyes from his and reclaimed a just small portion of yourself back.  

You reprimand his hungry gaze by taking a step away from his unprecedented amount of body heat. You shake your head and as you arch a brow, you flick your eyes down to study the droplets from your jacket hitting the floor. It  makes you feel like you have some control in this situation, even though it’s becoming entirely obvious you have none.

You don’t respond to your name leaving his lips for two reasons. One, the tone he used was not one of intention for a work discussion, but an intention for something much more explicit. Two, you know for certain that you won’t be able to speak without a moan taking over your vocal cords. 

And he’s watching you. Watching every muscle twitch, every breath of air you suck through your teeth, every new spot of blush that’s added to your neck and cheeks. He’s watching it all, and now you’re watching him too. 

You’re sucked back into him, and you come to the conclusion that fighting against the yearning is only causing it to intensify like a slow burn radiating from deep in your belly.

You give in to the sudden jolt of bravery overtaking you and begin to  slide your sopping wet blazer down to your elbows. Your breasts are in full view now, straining against the soaking wet blouse. Your nipples instantly erect with the wave of cool air hitting them, waking them from the the cover and warmth of your jacket. You throw caution to the wind and shut your eyes to imagine his tongue around your nipple, flicking and teasing until it’s so hard and sensitive that you cry out for the world to hear. But you also know, as you fantasize about Mulder’s naked ass and what it would feel like with your hands gripping around each curve while he slides his thick length in and out of you, that he is having the same erect effect as you. 

You admit to yourself that you fucking love it. You fucking love  _ him _ . 

Instantly, you know you need to flee before you shatter that last shred of willpower you have left, but you honestly don’t  _ want _ to. What you really want to do—what you’ve craved to do for so long—is to strip your partner, your best friend, your… you have no idea what he actually is anymore. 

And it hits you. Hard. Oh, God! It fucking slams into your chest like a bullet tearing through your flesh, searing your heart. What if you are nothing more but that? Nothing more than a partner and friend to him? What if that’s all you’ll ever be? You holding back and hiding your love for him is torturing you both. But with Diana lurking in the shadows, you find yourself still testing the water instead of diving right in.

Christ, Dana! Will you ever be able to just let go of control and be happy? 

Goddammit, he told you he loved you months ago, but you just deflected his admission as drugged and concussed blathering. And you knew, you fucking knew he was dead serious. You’re so scared to just  _ let _ him love you. It’s downright pathetic. You feel pathetic! You feel sick!

You keep your eyes shut because you can’t take looking at him yet, so you blindly reach out for the counters edge and grip it in an attempt to ease the sudden nausea roiling in your stomach. 

Jesus, you feel your emotions rush to the surface of your skin and the hot tears begin to well along your ducts. You hear his shoes move along the water next to you so you swallow the lump forming in your throat before he can comment on your behavior. 

You try and take back a semblance of control while you use the distraction of sliding your drenched jacket completely off your arms now and toss it onto the counter, still avoiding his scrutinizing stare. 

Mulder takes another step into your space. He’s so close, too damn close to you. You sense his essence and you feel your own reach out to him from deep in your soul, calling its mate. 

You’ve opened your eyes but know you can’t look him in the eye and risk being caught up in that intense gaze you share. Not when you’re true and raw emotions for the man standing an inch from your aroused body are threatening to burst through your wall. 

Breathe, Dana, just breathe. My God, you need to remind yourself to perform involuntary functions now.

Mulder leans in a little more. Just enough to take his jacket he’d shed in his fist as an offer for you to put on as if his is any less soaked. Your nipples couldn’t get any harder so what the hell did it matter to cover them. You want him to  _ see _ , but not to talk or touch. If that happened, you know your knees would buckle and slam to the floor with the intent to act out one of those dirty dirty Mulder-fantasies right here on the glassy restaurant floor. 

Oh Shit! Your mind yells, “don’t go there!” while your body begs, _ “please!” _

But It’s just too much for you to handle when so much between you has gone undiscussed, unexplored, and unnamed. You instinctively know it’s time to leave before he touches you. You intend to do just that when you lock your eyes onto his. Yes, that is what you intend to do. But dammit, you don’t. 

You touch instead. You don’t think a fucking thing. You just act. You press your palm to his wet chest and feel his steady heartbeat. He’s not at all nervous about the situation at hand and for some reason, that excites you. 

His face is so damn close to yours now that you can smell his unique scent through his rain and wind ravaged skin. You melt! Your body completely melts into his and you’re whole body touches. 

Mulder leans down and moans while his eyelids flutter. He feels so good! You fit into him perfectly, and the thought of exactly how perfect you could fit together in every way possible flashes in your mind.

Turning your face into his damp one, you brush tentatively along his warm lips with your own. A fresh set of goosebumps rise along your whole body and you just let go. You, Dana Scully, let go and press all your weight into Fox Mulder’s mouth. Fucking finally!

You part your lips and his tongue slides in. It wiggles, it pulsates, and makes contortive sweeps of your mouth’s vault . Your brain shuts down and you just react. His hand combs through your wet hair, your hands run along his sodden shirt until they hit bare skin. While your mouths are mingled, your hips aline, grinding into his fully harden cock. You whimper. Yes, actually whimper as your fingers slide along his collarbone and up his neck, clinging to every part of him for dear life. 

You hear his heavy rain filled jacket thump onto the floor while the squeaking of wet rubber along your shoes echo amongst the walls. Mulder’s arms snake around your back and hips where you can’t help but loll helpless with your eyes rolling back, in a trance of tongue and euphoria. 

Oh. My. God. 

His heat radiates through your body and into your panties where you really need him the most. You almost say  _ it _ right here. You almost do, yet you can’t with his tongue rolling along yours. All you can do is moan into his mouth while you swallow his in return. 

His unyielding mouth was parting your swollen lips, sending wild tremors along your nerves, evoking sensations you’d never known you were capable of feeling. You’re in utter ecstasy as your brain finally wakes up and comprehends exactly what’s happening. 

Mulder’s kissing you back with an intensity that makes you cling to him as the only solid thing in your now dizzy swaying world. And you feel that  _ thing _ . You feel that connection with him like a tangible presence in the room. He squeezes you tighter and you know he feels it too. 

Mulder sucks your lip while his hand shoots up to caress your bare back and grip around your rib cage. You have just enough air in your lungs to gasp as you bring both hands up to his face and cradle it. He releases the suction and your lip pops free. He stares into your soul, begging you to be the one to break the cone of silence. You blink slowly, just once in acceptance. With his arms still wrapped around you and his entire body flush to yours, you open your mouth and—

A car door slams outside, sucking the remaining air right out of your chest. He stiffens and freezes as you both listen to the voices murmuring on the other side of the wall. You tear your wide-eyes away from his and watch the door on the other side of the room. 

You silently thank God for standing in the windowless section of the restaurant as you slide your hands through his hair and onto his shoulders where you feel him exhale in frustration.

If your heart wasn’t pounding in your throat before, it is now.

Knowing you’ve just crossed the line, you drop the side of your forehead against his collarbone, unable to part from his embrace just yet.  You whisper his name with your face nuzzled in his neck with every outtake of breath like a prayer, because it feels like  _ he is  _ your higher calling. “Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.” 

And he hears you. 

You reluctantly pull away from his intoxicating body heat, instantly feeling cold as ice—much like your persona you ironically realize. In times like this, you wish he could read minds and hear what you won’t say. 

His hands reach out for more but you just cannot risk the rule or your heart, so you continue to avoid eye contact, spin on your heel, and turn your back to him to walk away.

“Scully, wait! We need to talk,” you hear him say in his gritty voice that causes you to stumble into an agent that’s now holding open the door. But you don’t respond, you won’t. 

You walk through the doorway and without looking back, you flee. 

A defiant tear drips down your cheek as you walk quickly around the corner overhang of the building. You sigh while leaning against the wet brick to clear your clusterfucked mind, and you can’t help but register the fact that you never took the blatant opportunity to squeeze Mulder’s ass when you had the chance. 

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a while compared to the others so leave me some love please!


	5. One time in a hotel lobby...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully finds out where all of her ogling and repression finally leads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter needed to meet certain requirements so I really hope that I hit them all. ;)

You’re doing it again. Again and again you torture yourself needlessly with ogling your partners aggravatingly perfect and sexy ass! Why do you do this when you know if you just give in to your desires and finally fully let go of everything that’s been holding you back for years you can have all of him?  _ All _ of Fox Mulder. 

You find that you don’t have an answer good enough to justify the why.

Mulder leans over the now fully booked hotel check-in desk a little further to pay for your one room, and you crane your neck around the man in front of you to keep Mulder’s ass in sight. Yes,  _ one _ room that you have to share with two double beds because the town you’re suppose to investigate suspicious paranormal activity in, is too damn tiny to have more than one shitty hotel. Yet, you don’t let that potential problem interrupt you. So you continue to take the picture of perfection in as you bite your lip, hold your breath, and grip your luggage tighter than when holding your Sig while aimed at a suspect. 

As you attempt to tamp down your growing arousal, you can’t help but think about all of the other aspects of Mulder that you’ve had the opportunity to explore lately. His irresistible pouty mouth being one. 

Oh yes, It’s becoming a familiar thing—kissing Mulder, and you find it’s much more exciting and natural to you than nerve-wracking like you’d originally thought. You love how his hands embrace your entire body and engulf you into his warmth as if you’re melting together as one. One body; one reality; one soul; one reason to live. He has become your one and only; your everything.  _ Mulder. _

You kissed him on a manhunt months ago, where you almost lost all common sense and handed him your heart right then and there. He kissed you on New Year's, a restrained and sweet kiss full of promise that reminded you of what you  _ could _ have and of what you’ve been too goddamn hesitant to accept. He kissed you again, harder that time, against his doorway as you said goodnight last week after eating chinese takeout. You kissed him in the elevator of the parking garage with intent and fervor two days ago when he told you he sent your Mom flowers for her birthday. You even let your hands wander and run through his hair as his tongue slipped past your teeth. But that was as far as you could go at the moment with the doors dinging open and bringing you back to earth. 

The shifting of your relationship has been slowly blooming into something big, so big that—until now anyways—you’ve tried not to think too much about what it’s turning into. 

One thing you do know, is that the gawking, the daydreaming, and ogling of Mulder has consumed your life. From the moment you wake up, to the moment you sleep—it’s Mulder. You even fucking dream about him and you doing very sinful things together while sitting in a pew next to your Mother on Sunday mornings. That shit cannot be normal, and you would ask your Oxford educated psychologist best friend if it were, yet that would just make you both consumed and an idiot. 

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice reminds you that, yet again, you’ve forgotten your professionalism. “Here’s your key to the room, and I’m sorry we have to share. I guess I should’ve known to call ahead this time.” He says it as if he means it, but you know he’s just as titillated as you are at what sharing one room at this stage in…an  _ us _ could turn into. 

You meet his eyes and see the look of wonderment there that you can only assume you have written all over your own face too. So you just take the key, clear your throat, and drag your luggage to the room. On the way, you pray you can muster a level of self-control tonight that gives you both a chance to talk about  _ what _ the hell you are exactly, and where the hell you’re headed before any more eye-fucking and tongue foreplay happens again.  

Mulder slides his key in and holds the door open for you with a wave of his hand and a grin. And this, this takes you back a bit as Mulder usually isn’t overly chivalrous with you—not counting his well placed hand pressing into your back as he guides you—unless he’s feeling overly affectionate or trying to make himself abundantly clear. In this situation, you outright assume it’s both. 

You’re not anxious because it’s Mulder, and Mulder is your best friend. A best friend that you have very unfriend-like thoughts about as you ogle his body and in your mind, strip him down to just that bronzed Mulder-skin that you salivate over every time you see him roll up his shirt sleeves. 

Dammit, Dana not yet! 

“Hey, since it’s getting late, you okay with me hopping in the shower first so I can pick us up some food while we go over the case file?” Mulder asks, calm and collected while slowly unbuttoning his blue dress shirt as if you’ve shared a bedroom for years. 

You find yourself still standing with your feet growing roots in the same spot since you’ve entered, daydreaming again. Is this really happening? You think about stripping him in your mind and now he’s doing it!

This time, your mouth is unusually dry and you can’t look away from the display of Mulder slowly stripping right in front of you. You think you nod your head but you can’t be sure and you have no fucking clue if he saw even if you did, because your eyes are focused nowhere near his. 

He loosens his tie and yanks it once, sliding it off onto the bed. He pulls his shirt off of one shoulder, then the other exposing—Holy Christ—his white undershirt tank top with his corded muscles and veins popping out, straining against the confines of his golden skin.  Oh you’ve dreamt of this, you’ve played this particular image over and over in slow-mo for years now. But nothing can compare to the real thing. True you’ve seen Mulder take his clothes off before, but you’ve never actually drenched yourself while watching with the intent to help him  _ finish  _ the rest. 

You’re beginning to wonder if too much fantasizing can lead to temporary insanity. And oh goddammit, here it comes...

Mulder’s lips, his hair, his voice, his hands, his ass, his rock hard—

Fuck! You make the mistake of looking down, down toward his crotch as his deft fingers play at the buttons of his pants.  STUPID move.  Yet suddenly, your heart is racing a mile a minute, your cheeks grow embarrassingly hot. This room assignment you’ve agreed to is quickly becoming a huge problem for you. A problem with only one final solution, you deduce, honing in on the scientific part of your brain. 

There’s only one outcome to this problem that stands between the two of you. Except, it’s not a problem at all; it’s an answer. 

Has the sexual tension finally come to a head, a climax of epic proportions? As much as that excites you, the thought also scares the shit out of you. That you might be holding the greatest gift—your friendship with Mulder—over a figurative flame as you wait for it to either burn to bits or ignite in epic passion. God, you fucking hope it’s the passion! 

You know he wants this with you. He needs this with you. That he’s ready for you. And you know, you KNOW he’s been waiting for you to show him that you’re ready for him too. And in this very moment, you realize that you’ve been ready for  _ all  _ of him for a very long time. You just hadn’t been able to see that through the haze of uncertainty surrounding your list of three rules regarding your partner. 

As you watch him unzip, you replay your list as a reminder. First rule, was made on day one, moment one: Don’t fuck your partner. Second rule, was made then broken not too long after you made your first: Don’t fall in love with your partner. Your third rule was made immediately after you were awarded your death sentence two and a half years ago. That rule has remained off limits to you since the first time your lips met his. So naturally, you’ve ignore it for self-preservation reasons. 

Until now. 

Now, Mulder’s pants are slung low under his hips and his tight as hell boxers are displaying the top curve of his amazing ass and—oh fuck—his stiffening cock.  _ Now.  _ Now, your body is betraying you left and right. Your breathing is so erratic that you’re starting to feel light headed. Your palms are sweaty and your fingers cramp from squeezing the luggage so damn hard. _ Now.  _ You’re wet. So so wet that you’re certain you’ve leaked into your work pants and as soon as you realize that, a sharp pang of desire shoots through your clit and you moan from your belly up through your wide open mouth.  _ Now.  _ You slap three fingers over your mouth, but it’s too late. He hears you, and you don’t even give a shit.  _ Now. _ Now, Dana! “NOW!” 

Mulder’s head snaps up to your face with eyebrows up to his hair. “What? Scully? Scully, are you okay?” He asks while holding up his drooping pants. 

Up until that moment, you had no idea you’d said that out loud. And it changes everything. Because now, you’re no longer just ogling. Now, you’re actually going to listen to your body and say screw off to anything else. All of Mulder is what you need, and you’re going to finally ask for him. Every last inch. 

Decision made, you push your bag away from you and hear it hit the dresser. You take two purposeful strides to stand right in front of Mulder’s surprised and smiling face. “Now, Mulder. I think I said, now,” you respond huskily, barely a notch above a whisper. 

He knows what you mean, what you want and so desperately need. And he wants and needs you just the same. You reach out and grab a fist full of his undershirt and bring your lips toward his. But before you can even reach them, he steps into you and your bodies aline once again like magnets as your mouths collide, sending tongues and sounds of pleasure down each other’s throats. 

He pulls away and groans, leaving you leaning in for more. Mulder runs one seductive look from your head to your toes and grins. You lick your already puffy lips and kick your shoes off without looking away. That sets off a flurry of clothing removal. 

You yank at your suit jacket and let it fall to the floor. Mulder’s eyes are still glued to your body, watching you as you watch him. His chests rises and falls in time with yours and you can’t hold back giving into your most basic instinct, to run sensually your hands down that warm hard chest of your partner. You feel his heart thudding against your palm in anticipation and it takes all of your will to keep your eyes from fluttering shut. You don’t want to miss a thing. 

So you decide to help him finish what he’d started. You lift his shirt up and over his head and feel him toss it behind you, since your eyes haven’t left the solid form of Mulder’s abs. His scent intoxicates you and ramps up your thrumming excitement. 

He hooks his fingers into both boxers and pants as you watch them fall quickly to the floor with a thud. Then,  _ it  _ is exposed your scientific eye. His obscenely long, thick and fully erect cock that bobs heavily in the air between you. If your mouth wasn’t hanging open before, it sure as hell is now. 

You salivate, you moan, you pant, you ache. Oh Jesus, you ache for _ it _ , for  _ him _ ! Only for him. You examine; take in every curve, every vein, every ridge, every inch. And you immediately realize that you’ve acquired a new obsession, a new favorite piece of Mulder-anatomy. 

You’re finally able to tear your eyes away to glance down at yourself, aroused and ready but still clothed, dammit! Mulder is standing there stark naked and you’re completely covered. Un-fucking-acceptable! 

Neither of you speak, you just move. He groans and reaches for the buttons on your blouse, pulling apart each one swiftly. You pull your arms out while he fumbles with the zipper of your dress pants. His throaty grunts are loud in your ear as he hovers over you, trembling and hissing as his exposed cock grazes your hand.

You moan in unison and you see the arousal in his hazel eyes, growing darker by the second. “Scully…” he breathes out, making you gush again with desire. You’ve been swollen with need since you began to stare at his ass, but now it’s become unbearable. You bat his hands away and yank on the uncooperative zipper and free yourself one leg at a time.   

You meet his dilated gaze once again and you feel a wave of intense heat shoot through your center. Fuck! You’ve had enough. Reaching back, you unhook your bra and as Mulder helps take it from your arms, you wiggle out of your matching panties and kick them off your ankle. 

In that moment, a thick fog of intense desire to have Fox Mulder take your body and your heart overcomes you. Every time you’ve pushed away his less than platonic looks, every time you’ve wanted him and tamped it down, and every time you’ve set aside your love for him, it was slowly eating you alive. But in this moment, it has all finally broken free. 

And holy shit it feels good to be  _ free _ ! 

He reaches out for you and you’re there, thrusting your bare pelvis at him before he’s even got himself in hand and you plead as if this could possibly be the last moment of your life. “God, _ please, _ Mulder!” 

He responds by sweeping you off of your feet and spins you both around while he crushes his front along yours, bouncing your intermingled bodies onto cheap ass mattress. And you giggle. Actually giggle, as all of your emotions bubble to the surface. 

You feel him smile along your skin, kissing every place he’s only ever seen in dire circumstances. Tasting, licking, nibbling, sucking—oh hell yes! Mulder sucks one hardened nipple in his mouth and releases it through his teeth. 

You grip your hands in his hair and let him explore you with his mouth, the exact way you explore him with your eyes.

And you’re blissfully unaware of his intent to drive you completely mad. He teases your clit with his fingers, palm, lips and tongue over and over until you fall off that cliff of ecstasy while shouting things that would normally make you blush just thinking about. 

_ Mulder! _

You feel him kissing you again and whispering his love for you in your ear. You’re so damn happy you could cry, but you hold it in when you feel him hot and hard along your leg. You’re able to wrap your shaky legs around waist to hold him closer. You want more, need more! Seven years of teasing is just too fucking long and you cannot take another second of it. “More!” you demand, completely frantic with the need to be joined. 

Mulder hums along your skin as his hands fan over your waist, holding you down with his cock brushing your entrance. You wiggle your ass to send the message to stop fucking around and just fuck you already. He laughs but gets the message, and with one gentle push, he slides in while your soul sings to his. 

He pulls back and looks down to see your swollen, glistening folds stretched to the max around the base of his cock. Your clit pulses in time with your thudding heart and you know he can see it. And he’s loving it! You’re loving it!  

You prop yourself up on your elbow as he thrusts back and forth into you and wraps his arm around your upper thigh. You feel yourself tighten around him, clamp down and suck him into your stretching tunnel, as if you had the power to keep him there forever. 

Yes, forever. Forever with Mulder.  _ Mulder. _

You squeal, your body jolting at the sudden powerful thrust that slams into your G-spot. Another powerful orgasm takes you by surprise. “Yes!” you hiss through your teeth as you toss back your head against the rumpled comforter. 

This is what you’ve been missing all these years? That thought alone could send you to the looney bin. Hell, you hope by the time Mulder is finished with you that you won’t even remember your own name.

He lays his entire body weight onto you as you crush him into your chest, letting your pounding hearts beat against one another. 

Mulder rocks into you slowly now, sweet and tender. You take your time feeling each and every square inch of his damp skin coupling with yours. 

Hands rubbing, mouths meeting, hips colliding, springs squeaking, peaks climbing… Mulder thrusts one, two, three more times and pours out his love for you into your body as you come undone together. 

He moans long and deep and you feel him suck in a ragged breath. You languidly smile as you reach down and run a quivering hand along his perky, tight, amazingly perfect ass cheek and finally give it a squeeze. 

With his face buried into your neck, Mulder mumbles, “I knew that was your favorite part of me, Scully.” 

You huff out a laugh and before you can speak, Mulder kisses you on the mouth, perfectly. He cups your cheek and marks every inch of your face with his fucking amazingly soft and plump lips, making you quiver with so much lust and so much love and—

Oh, sweet Lord you  _ love him _ so much! And you decide right then and there to finally erase your secret third rule, the one that you imposed not long after your first two. The one rule that, at a point in your life, you thought you would never break. 

You _ tell _ him!

“God, I’m in love you, Mulder,” you mumble along his swollen lips with eyes wide open, pulling  _ him _ into your soul this time. 

He hears you. And this time, you don’t flee. 

You never flee again!

\----------

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading though to the end. Please make sure to leave me any feedback you have time for and let me know your thoughts on how it all ended. P.s. Thank you to all of those who've already commented!

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback you can give me on this is greatly appreciated. I want to get a feel before I write the remaining chapters. Thanks!


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